snatch victory from the jaws of defeat and despair.

Four weeks passed before Kalman saw him again. Those four weeks
he spent in toil from early dawn till late at night at the oats
and the potatoes, working to the limit of their endurance Mackenzie
and the small force of Galicians he could secure, for the mine and
the railroad offered greater attractions. At length the level black
fields lay waiting the wooing of the sun and rain and genial air.
Then Kalman rode down for a day at Wakota, for heart and body were
exhausted of their vital forces. He wanted rest, but he wanted more
the touch of a friend's hand.

At Wakota, the first sight that caught his eye was French's horse
tethered on the grassy sward before Brown's house, and as he rode
up, from within there came to his ear the sound of unusual and
hilarious revelry.

"Hello there!" yelled Kalman, still sitting his horse. "What's
happened to you all?"

The cry brought them all out,--Brown and his wife, French and
Irma, with Paulina in the background. They crowded around him
with vociferous welcome, Brown leading in a series of wild cheers.
After the cheering was done, Brown rushed for him.

"Congratulations, old boy!" he cried, shaking him by the hand.
"It's all right; we've won, after all! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!"
Brown had clearly gone mad.

Then Irma came running toward him.

"Yes, it's all true, Kalman dear," she cried, pulling down his head
to kiss him, her voice breaking in a sob and her eyes radiant with
smiles and tears.

"Don't be alarmed, old man," said French, taking him by the hand
when Irma had surrendered her place. "They are all quite sane.
We've got it, right enough. We've won out."

Kalman sat still on his horse, looking from one to the other in
utter bewilderment. Brown was still yelling at intervals, and
wildly waving his hat. At length Kalman turned to Mrs. Brown.

"You seem to be sane, anyway," he said; "perhaps you will tell me
what they all mean?"

"It means, Kalman," said the little woman, offering him both hands,
"we are so glad that we don't know what to do. We have got back our
mine."

"The mine!" gasped Kalman faintly. "Impossible! Why, Brown there--"

"Yes! Brown here," yelled that individual; "I know Brown. He's a
corker! But he's sometimes wrong, and this is one of the times.
A mine, and a company! And there's the man that did it! Jack French,
to whom I take off my hat! He has just got home, and we have just
heard his t